


Duel Duality

by GuileandGall



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viola DeWynter and Dexter Jackson are titans in the boardroom. Few people realize that their connection runs much deeper than professional adversaries, mainly because they can’t imagine a pair that can cut so sharply at one another in the business suite being able to stand one another beyond. Of course, appearances can be deceiving. Despite bouts of professional punishment, their private lives are completely different life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duel Duality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chyrstis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chyrstis/gifts).



> This was written to fill a commission for Chyrstis. Thank you again so very much for doing that, I can’t explain how much it helped—truly. Her request was rather simple: Viola/Dex. I truly hope she enjoys it. I also need to thank CelesteEnnui for being the beta for this. She always manages to help me make things so much stronger by honest and no nonsense critiques. You are amazing, and I’m lucky you still put up with my drafts.

**Duel Duality**

**-1-**

After leaving the Syndicate, and subsequently working to squash the criminal empire she helped Phillipe Loren construct, Viola DeWynter managed to translate her enterprising nature and business acumen into a lucrative position that centered on pulling the Saints back out of the spotlight. Through Kinzie Kensington and others, Viola learned about Remy McGinnis’ position on the direction of the street gang born in the Mission Beach District of Stilwater. The boss shared Johnny Gat’s opinion that their meteoric growth and focus on fame had been misguided. The tiny blond preferred the shadows to the spotlights and flashbulbs that Ultor wanted to point at the gang.

Remy’s desire to pull out of the limelight conflicted with Ultor’s desire to continue to build the brand. Saints Flow, Planet Saints, the special events, and, even, the _Gangstas in Space_ promotion and merchandising. They wanted to keep it all in place, keep the fan dollars flowing into their corporate coffers. While the boss recognized the need for the partnership, and planned to keep it intact, she really did not want to be their decorative little puppet, dancing when they pulled the strings. And that was where Viola came in. Remy wanted her to cut the strings.

Kinzie Kensington tended to accompany her to these types of meetings, only in part the woman attended to keep a record for the Saints archives. But the petite redhead actually enjoyed the negotiations. It was not uncommon for Viola and Dex to square off in these types of meetings. The Saints and Ultor shared some interests, but most of their foci diverged from one another. Dexter Jackson had a long history with the Saints. He knew the organization and its leader, which gave him an advantage over most of Ultor’s executives. Then there was the relationship Viola shared with him. The two became romantically involved more than a year ago. Some of the corporation’s higher ups thought that might give him another edge.

Remy trusted Dex and Viola, personally and professionally. She believed them both when they claimed their relationship was not a factor in their professional lives. There were times when the each wondered if that was true. There were evenings when each apologized to the other for a particularly rigid or harsh line taken during the a negotiation. Even that day, after they threw everyone out of the conference room, they kept the discussion professional, if heated; each holding their position from their side of the massive mahogany table that separated the room.

Dexter just stood there, opposite her, arms crossed over his chest with a slight lean in his posture. “Ultor cannot just let her walk away. It’s not an option. We can rearrange some of the commitments, but Remy is the leader of the Saints. The Saint, if you will. She can’t just … become a hermit,” he argued.

“She has an organization to run. A _criminal_ organization, need I remind you. Bringing her into the spotlight is just begging to bring more attention on her and the Saints. And not the kind of attention Ultor wants,” Viola stated as she paced the length of the massive mahogany table with measured steps.

“That’s why Pierce pays off the cops, and why we’ve sponsored the right political campaigns. She’s virtually untouchable.” Dex pressed his fingertips to the smooth finish of the wood and cocked his head at her.

That smug look always irritated her. Of course, sad part was, she knew he was right. Remy would have to shoot up a supermarket on the nightly news to even get the authorities to look her direction.

“But then you know that.”

Viola stopped and faced him, one eyebrow arching high. “Precisely.”

“What is she planning?” The furrow that formed between his brows gave away his concern.

“Nothing yet,” Viola countered with a smugness of her own. “But you know Remy better than I do.”

Dex straightened, narrowing his eyes at her. It was Viola’s turn to tip her head to the side. She really wanted to save that card, but she needed him to budge. He knew Remy’s unpredictability and brazenness better than any of the gang, at least those left. Of course, pulling that card left him more detached. In business, Dexter could take on an icy detachment and cool demeanor. She knew he was the exact opposite of her—she tended to prowl and growl, sometimes much more than she should.

The meeting concluded not long after. Dex budged a little, but only because Viola offered minor concessions to the PR contract. She and Kinzie exited the Ultor building via the parking structure where their car was waiting for them. The trip from Ultor’s Steelport offices to the Saint’s Headquarters in Loren Square only took a few minutes. It was barely any time to switch modes. Delivering the news to Remy was always easier in some ways than others. Remy tended to be very laid back, just sitting there and listening as Viola explained the events what occurred a few blocks away that Ultor remained completely unwilling to let her out of the appearance and image campaigns.

“Apparently, you score too highly with the focus groups,” Viola explained, pacing again, though this time she moved along the length of the windows as the boss slouched in the chair facing the desk. She did not hide the inspecting look she gave the other woman, who reclined in the seat with her muck-covered boots propped up on the corner of Viola’s desk. The jeans she wore were stained with grease and oil and ripped up from use rather than for fashion. There were also smatterings of blood on her pants and wrinkled t-shirt. Her long blond hair was finger-combed into a rough ponytail. _Somehow this wreck managed to capture the hearts and minds of people._ Viola could not fully explain it.

“Who the hell is in these groups?” McGinnis asked with a huff and loud slow exhale through her nose. The added shake of her head suggested she could not see a reason for it either.

The corner of Viola’s mouth twitched, but she did not smile though. That would send the wrong message. Instead, she merely halted her progress and perched on the corner of the desk opposite the other woman. “Damned if I know, but that’s not the point. We’re going to have to give a little to get some of the things you really want taken off the table. You’re going to have to play on some field with these people.”

“How about I just start looking for news cameras and making some less than stellar headlines?”

“So you want to break the contract?”

“Why not?”

“It would bankrupt the whole organization.” Viola did not move an inch, she merely raised an eyebrow at Remy. The boss might not give a damn about the money, but there were people that worked within the Saints organization that needed their jobs and their income. That was the card DeWynter knew she could always play with Remy to keep her from jumping too far over the line. The blond might still take assassination contracts and infiltration assignments, but she did not go over the top in public except for when it could not be avoided, like with the hunt for Killbane.

Remy slouched more, rubbing her fingers over her brow with a drawn out sigh. While the boss was not the easiest person to read, that gesture was one Viola knew well. Acquiescence.

“Just keep me away from Jane Valderamma or I swear I’ll carve my name into her forehead. On the air.”

“She’s a local favorite,” Viola replied in a sing-song tone meant to ease the news.

“Find another one.”

“You’ve worked with her before and she’s controllable.”

With a thud, the boots dropped off the edge of the desk. Elbows planted on her knees, McGinnis leaned forward and stared at her. DeWynter knew exactly what she was doing. Somehow, the boss who measured just over five feet tall managed a glare that was much more intimidating than anything Eddie had ever shot her direction. The empty sharpness of the look made Viola’s skin crawl, but she did not show her discomfort.

“What is it you always tell Pierce?” she mused for a moment, looking up and tapping her chin. Planting her palms on the desk, she swallowed the hint of fear tightening her throat and stared back into those cold blue eyes as she all but growled, “Suck it up, Buttercup.”

Neither of them moved for nearly a minute. Then Remy cracked a smile and laughed. “All right. I’ll give on Jane. But seriously. I want out of this shit. Remind your boy toy that he’s supposed to be on my side.”

“Maybe you should tell him not to make you regret kicking Cal’s ass in the third grade.”

That earned another laugh. “Maybe I should.” Remy hopped, literally, like a frog off a hot rock, out of the chair and headed for the door. Before opening it, she turned. “How’s Dex doing?”

Viola’s head snapped back up toward the little boss; they never talked about this sort of thing, ever. After Viola informed the boss that she was seeing him seriously, they implemented a don’t ask, don’t tell policy on her relationship with him. Remy was his friend—one of the guys for lack of a better phrase. Remy was Dex’s poker night buddy and Viola knew that whenever Dex came dragging in just before dawn that he was out with the boss. Knowing both of them, they were doing things she did not want to know about, but sometimes the Public Relations rep was on her line within hours of her lover’s return home, trying to smooth over their Dork Night escapades.

“We’re … he’s fine. Healthy. Got all his shots. Took him to the groomer last weekend,” she teased.

Remy just nodded, silently. “Good. I bet those toenails can get out of control, wouldn’t want him shredding the sheets in his sleep.”

“Definitely, not,” Viola chuckled. She might just have to share that one with Dex.

Without another word on the subject, Remy exited leaving Viola to wonder why the boss asked the question as she crafted another offer for Ultor. The boss had given her a big concession which meant she could probably pull get the woman mostly removed from the print ads almost completely, but that was hard to predict. She would have to see how it played out. After a few hours, the long-legged brunette packed up her work, stuffing some of it in the case with her laptop and tablet.

It was her night to ‘cook,’ which meant that it was her night to be home before seven to receive their order with _La Petit Chef_ , a local gourmet delivery service. They set a menu with the company at the beginning of the month and Monday through Thursday, barring any spur-of-the-moment interruptions, they traded nights so that one of them was always home to ‘make’ dinner (serving the meal up on real plates rather than leaving it in the cartons). Most nights they managed it, reconciling the day and reconnecting, despite whatever the day might have brought.

**-2-**

Dexter Jackson spent the afternoon with advertising and public relations, trying to find a solution to some of the demands the Saints were pushing. He knew these kinds of disputes resolved themselves easier before Viola came into the picture, but personally he was torn. He had close to Remy since they were in grade school; that part of him agreed with Viola’s arguments and wanted to sign off on all of it. He knew how different things were for Remy now, how withdrawn she’d been since Johnny’s loss, and how deeply it shook her not to have a body to bury. That was the part that struck her the hardest—not having the chance to say goodbye.

While Dex knew the boss left him with Ultor because she wanted someone on the inside to watch her back. On the other hand, his friend confided that it was not the only reason. She had plans for him and the company. And she needed him to draw a line—to make sure she did not push the company too far. Providing information and intelligence on the one side, keeping the company viable on the other, Dex held an interesting position and walked a very fine line, but he struck a balance between the two. He and Remy knew one another well enough to read each other, as well as to trust that each would watch out for the other’s interests. Jackson’s position was made even easier because he knew that Remy would be there to put her foot down, so to speak, if any issues arose from the arrangement. So far, he handled the few uproars on his own, his relationship with the boss did not make him entirely bulletproof, but it helped. Plus, she realized the type of position she put him in and while she pushed hard, she always compromised when it was vital. She understood how difficult a spot Dex was in, just like he kept in mind that she walked a similar line—running a criminal enterprise while maintaining a likeable public image was no mean feat either.

The situation left them both doing double duty, and so far both managed it without too much backlash. Days like this were especially difficult: arguing to force his best friend into things she preferred to avoid because it was best for the company. Things like this stressed him out more than most of the other tasks he faced, because he had to battle his own personal inclinations in order to push for what was in the corporation’s best interests. Of course, arguing it against Viola made it that much more challenging, both personally and professionally.

Of course, Dex left all that at the office. As he crossed the rosy Italian marble of the lobby of the Tower 88, the only question in his mind was if Viola managed to escape her own office on time, though he would understand if she did not. The elevator music in their building was classical, _probably Mozart by the sound of it_ , he thought, on the ride up. The elevator music, like the marble, and the precisely decorated foyers on each floor was meant to portray a certain opulence. That was not the draw for he or his lover. They coveted the view, the fact that they could see for miles through walls of windows. For him it was freeing.

From the moment he unlocked the door, a sense of comfort and relaxation washed over him—the muscles in his shoulders eased with the thought of, _I_ _’m home_. The loft-style layout dotted with columns and pass through walls was designed as a very open space that took special advantage and consideration of the fact that there were two walls of windows looking out toward Magarac Island, where the huge statue of Joe Steel loomed, restored to his formerly glory worthy of the folk hero Joe Magarac.

For months, that statue swarmed with workers wearing purple. Some of them were actually Saints, though not all. Despite that, the repair was funded by the gang and Ultor, and became a vivid reminder to the public of what he already knew, the Saints were not all bad. Of course, Dex knew just who they were; he harbored none of the illusions Ultor and the Saints tried to instill in the public by their artful use of spin.

Inside their apartment, a different rhythm pulsed from the sound system. The gentle sounds of utensils on the marble counters broke the smooth music adding to the relaxing atmosphere. _It smells amazing,_ he thought, his stomach verbally agreed, reminding Jackson that he skipped lunch in favor of strong arming public relations. He set his briefcase on the end table next to hers, saying, “Looks like I’ve got great timing.”

His eyes skimmed the living room. Viola’s laptop sat open on the coffee table, the screen still alight. The tablet laying next to it and the papers stacked neatly told him she had been home for quite a while, but dinner seemed to arrived recently.

“Always,” she replied with a gentle smile that prompted him to return it. Her gaze held that same softness as the first time they shared dinner.

“And what are we having?” he asked, crossing toward the island where she stood, dividing the meal onto black, square plates. The question was completely calculated.

“The one you just can’t seem to live without,” she replied, a teasing playfulness in her tone.

Dex hummed. He recognized it the moment he walked in—lamb shanks in Chasseur sauce, risotto, cheese potatoes, and roasted baby carrots—but still he asked, if only to job her memory as well. He knew just what restaurant it was from, La Sirene. She was right in her accusation though; he insisted on having this exact meal one night a month. Just a way to remind them both.

Shrugging off the navy pen-striped blazer, he hung it on the back of one of the barstools and set to removing his cuff links before he rolled up his sleeves. He just stared at her as he closed the distance. Finally, his arms slipped comfortably around her waist, inching closer until it felt like there was no space left between them. Dex buried his nose in her hair, which she’d taken down since that afternoon. Inhaling slowly he savored the scent and feel of her. Viola giggled softly. When he pulled her hair away from the back of her neck, she shivered and gave a weak shrug, more to calm the sensation than discourage him. His lips brushed her spine as his words whispered across the soft skin of her neck. “I remember that first date.”

“Dexter Jackson, you know very well that was not a date.” She always scolded him about that night. It was one of the things they never agreed on. He asked her to dinner because he wanted to, not intending it to be a working dinner; to which she always reminded him that she accepted under the premise that it was a professional encounter.

“I asked you out on a date. That should have been obvious by the location. La Sirene is not a place you take someone for a business meal, even if she’s as elegant and beautiful as you.” His lips grazed the side of her neck, curving into a smile when she laid her head back against his shoulder. With that unspoken encouragement he continued dotting lingering kisses, peppered with tiny bites, along the column of her neck. Nuzzling the spot behind her ear, Dex shifted his head and sucked at the sensitive spot there until he heard her hum.

“Dinner’s going to get cold,” she argued, half-heartedly. Viola had foregone dishing out the rest of the meal and her hands grazed over his arms lightly instead, keeping them wrapped around her waist.

“We have an oven.”

The counter argument earned him a husky chuckle, though it could have been the way his teeth tugged at her earlobe which prompted the tempting sound. “The risotto never holds up to rewarming.”

Fingers toyed with the buttons of her silk blouse, he intended to continue unless she objected. None came. One hand slipped into her shirt, his touch gliding over the slope of her ribs continuing up toward her neck. Viola’s breath hitched when his fingers brushed the divot at the base of her throat before curving toward her shoulder in an effort to dislodge her blouse to allow warm kisses to trail over her skin. “I’ll take you to Provence tomorrow for lunch. You always rave about their Caprese Risotto[i].”

Another hum. Again it could have been his words or the hand which smoothed over the exquisite French lace.

“Don’t you have a negotiation to finish up tomorrow?”

Dex’s laugh rumbled low in his chest. “Yes, I do. I’m fairly confident I can make her come around to my point of view.” He punctuated the claim with a nip at the shell of her ear.

He could almost hear the smile in her voice. “You think so?”

Dipping his hand into the cup of her bra, he kneaded her breast gently, rolling her nipple between his fingers. Viola leaned back against him, turning her head toward him with a soft exhale “I know her better than she thinks. I’m certain it’ll go quickly.”

“Oh really? You might just be over confident of your position Mr. Jackson.” she asked, her nails grazing the top of his thigh. It was his turn to growl as her hips rolled back against his. A husky shade darkened her tone as she added, “Especially if you think quick is what she wants.”

Dex took the cue. One hand teased, while the other kept at the buttons, knowing just how she would react if he ripped the blouse, either accidentally or on purpose. “In the boardroom, I think meeting a hasty compromise might be just up her alley.” Finishing with the buttons, he loosened his grip just long enough to turn her to face him. “But right here, right now is a whole other story.”

“Celebrating early?” she asked, her fingers grazing the line of his jaw as she drew his mouth to hers.

Their lips moved against one another like one of those slow motion movie kisses. Starting with gentle brushes then deepening as the blouse fluttered silently to the ground. While Viola had started to undo his tie, she stopped in favor of wrapping her hand in it to pull him closer. Her tongue dipped into his mouth shallowly, a tease at first. A flick of his fingers loosed the clasp of her bra, seeming to prompt a deeper, demanding kiss from his lover. A firm pinch elicited a gasp and forcing them both to pause for a breath.

Dex hugged her close, his body shifting against hers, teasing her flesh with the smooth fabric of his dress shirt. It renewed her actions, though his teasing continued, frustrating her efforts slightly. The telling blush crept down her chest as he nipped along her jugular, trying to maintain the slight advantage he held at that moment.

**-3-**

Viola loved and hated when Dexter got the upper hand in business or in their love life. His hands were nimble and quick; fingertips inching her skirt up as he kissed her. Then his hands converged on her waist, slipping her onto the counter, separating them just far enough to pull his lips too far long enough for them to find a new spot to tease. She contented herself with grazing tender kisses over his temple as her pulse thrummed through her body; she cradled his head to her breast while he teased her hardened nipple mercilessly. A moan broke free with a shiver when his fingers brushed lace once again, this time between her legs, which were wrapped around his waist.

His warm chocolate gaze turned upward, oozing deliberate calculation. The combination of such beautiful eyes and his focus and determination drew Viola toward him in the first place. That look told her he had a plan; Viola also know that as thorough a man as he was, she was going to enjoy precise moment of his scenario. His hand skimmed her skin lightly then pressed between her breasts, encouraging her to lean back onto the counter, which she did, mostly. Viola reclined back on her elbows so she could watch him. Dex liked to have his accomplishments acknowledged, and she knew he wanted to see the blush brighten her skin, observe every response her body made to his actions. Of course, Viola enjoyed watching, as well—herself, him, them.

Dipping his tongue into her belly button made her grin and her breathing deepened with anticipation. That dark look in his eyes, the crookedness in his smile, which he flashed her after every slowly inching kiss. Finally, Dex pressed firm circle around her clit with his thumb. The light pressure and the texture of her lace panties drew forth a deep breath and a pleased hum.

She wanted more, but he pulled away. The muscles in her thigh quivered as the soft brush of his lips and deliberate puffs of breath teased her sensitive skin. It ceased when he pressed a firm kiss right atop her clit. Her gasp made her smile as well, but in the next moment her breathing quickened as his palm pressed over the fabric a few times. Licking her lips, she opened her thighs more when his finger hooked the lace, her anticipation getting the better of her. Again the movement crept along. His breath teased and cooled her moist, heated flesh as he worked her panties to the side in minute increments.

By the time Dex’s long, languid lick caressed through her folds, Viola’s own anticipation had her shaking once more. The sensation of it freed a quivering moan from her throat as her fingers pressed over the top his head. She slid her hips toward him just a bit, opening her legs wider again. The crinkle near his eyes revealed the smile playing on his lips just before he wrapped them around the pert bulb of nerves at her apex. With that soft suck one her legs rose, wrapping around his shoulder. As the sensation sharpened, her heel dug into his back with encouragement.

His earlier statement was more correct than she would ever admit. He did know her well, especially in this. The way he dipped his tongue inside her then swirled and sucked at her clit with such careful attention left her writhing on the marble counter top. The excruciating pace brought her to the point of begging, but she held back as long as she could. But eventually, she needed it; the edging reached the point that she forced herself to say it. “Please. Please, Dex.”

“Please what, beautiful?” he mumbled against her body before his tongue dipped into her again as his thumb pressed against the hooded nerves again.

“Damnit Dex,” she replied, her nails scratched against the back of his head and her hips mimicked the circle of his fingertip. “Don’t tease.”

He hummed against her, but after a vibrating moment he pulled away. Viola growled low, the sound rising from deep in her throat. “I was not teasing.” His fingers smoothed over the crease of her thigh teasing around the sensitive edges of her, while he pressed kisses over her quivering belly. His dark eyes held her gaze as he dipped his tongue into her belly button again.

The sharp inhale was less a reaction to the actual movement and more a response to the thoughts it conjured. It was hard for Viola to see that motion and not think about the way he dipped his tongue into her moments earlier. Of course that’s exactly what she wanted him to be doing. “Now you are.”

He smiled, lips together and curled in that way that made his intense gaze seem predatory. Even if she considered herself a tigress, in that moment she was more than happy to be his prey. There was a time and place for everything, she knew, and right now was the time to let him take her to her climax, which felt so close. His chin brushed over her mons before his breath tickled her wet flesh. “Yes, I am.”

“Dexter.” His name started in a scold and ended in a cry, when he pressed a long strong lick between her folds. Her hand pressed over his short hair, the coarse, tight curls tickling her palm as his head moved between her thighs.

Having bloomed slowly and repeatedly as Dexter teased her, once he switched tactics and set to the task, she felt herself climbing that peak again quickly. Despite her reaction, he still maintained control over the pace. His tongue teased her clit between tugging sucks, and two fingers slipped into her, thrusting and curling against her G-spot. Viola rocked her hips, almost impatiently. She wanted to feel the rush, anticipated it, but he took his time. When she finally came, one hand shot out, tipping the bowl of risotto, as her foot dug into his spine.

**-4-**

Dex adored the way she said his name when she was on the edge—the hiss hanging on the X and that trill of the R as it fell into a moan. He set his mouth back to task. Viola was a feast which always incited his greed. The subtle taste of her on his tongue. A sweet rosy hue which shone through her pale porcelain skin. It crept up her chest and neck then over her delicate shoulders. And with a sharp suck he got her to shift again. Viola curled toward him, one arm snaking under her knee to open her hips and bare more of herself to him. He could hear the rattle of a gentle growl in her chest, it shivered right down his spine, making him throb against the tightness of his trousers.

It was like making love to a goddess, or a tigress. Viola knew what she wanted, and had no qualms about demanding it, directly or indirectly. There were other likenesses as well. Each pant came out laced with what could almost be called a purr. She whined his name again, the word reverberating with the quiver teasing at her muscles. So, Dexter gave in with concerted diligence.

Then came the roar and the sharp arch in her spine. Her hips bucked against his mouth, but to his credit, Dex did not let up. While she scratched her nails through his hair, he stroked, sucked, and soothed her through the spasms, refusing to ease back in the slightest until the rocking stopped and her legs relaxed around him again. Even then he curled his fingers a few more times, placing sucking kisses on her swollen pink flesh before pulling away.

Working his way back up her body in the same teasing way he had retreated, Dex eased his fingers out of her. Her hands gently tugged at his shoulders pulling him closer. Finally she leaned up, forcing him to straighten, as she wrapped her arms loosely around his shoulders. Her kiss was again soft and sweet. With no trace of apprehension she deepened it, humming again. He liked to think it was in reaction to the taste of herself on his lips.

When her legs tightened around his waist, the heat of her against him just added to the temptation. Her face tucked under his chin and supple lips blazed a trail over his skin as she wrapped herself around him. The heat radiating from her soft flesh comforted and enticed him. Dex enjoyed her post-coital pussycat phase for the cozy cuddling, but, like any cat, Viola could decide in an instant to bite and scratch again if she did not get her way.

Her hand slipped between them, pressing over the front of his trousers. “So, should I warm up dinner?” she asked against his neck, her voice holding a playful tone. Dex was fairly certain that the lamb was not what she had in mind, though she would no doubt tease him with denial. The thought of it made him ache.

“How about we let dinner wait?” he replied, pressing his erection against the pliable, retreating pressure of her hand. His groan bordered on a whine when her hand slipped away.

“That could be possible.” The tip of her nose nudged his a little so she could steal a peck. “But only if you get me off this counter.”

Dex chuckled. “Perhaps we should splurge on a more comfortable counter top. It’s not like we cook on it that often.”

“I don’t think they make pillow-top counters, sweetheart.”

His brow raised with the small nod he gave her in response. “It might eat into the resale value, too.”

Viola’s hand gripped the back of his neck tightly and pulled Dex closer. Her lips brushed his as she asked, “Are we going to talk renovations or are you going to take me upstairs and fuck me?”

The smirk formed out of instinct as he stared into her eyes. Her pupils were still blown wide and there was the barest hint of color ringing the black pools. “Hold on tight,” he ordered, getting a good grip around her rear before lifting her off the counter.

It happened every so often. Dinner being left to go cold and spoil on the counter as Dexter Jackson and Viola DeWynter lost themselves in one another. Neither of them tended to connect it to days when negotiations were more fierce than usual. This was another of those nights. The two of them gave into their carnal appetites, ignoring the corporeal, only to pass out, pleasantly exhausted, wrapped around one another in a tangle of blankets, sheets, and limbs.

\---

[i] Risotto featuring fresh grape tomatoes and basil.


End file.
